


You're poison, running through my veins

by mercscilla



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Film Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercscilla/pseuds/mercscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Clint Barton knows, that some cases change your life forever. If you survive them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're poison, running through my veins

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [a noir au ficathon](http://mind-conundrum.livejournal.com/11344.html) and **hotpiexoxo** 's prompt _All you are is a job_.

The case has trouble written all over it from the beginning, from the moment they're called into Commissioner Fury's office. Someone has given the department a tip to take a closer look at recent deaths of high society men that were determined to be sudden heart attacks with no foul play involved. According to the little birdie though, they're anything but ordinary deaths. Unfortunately, the source is found dead the next morning near the river but Fury decides to investigate further, turning the case over to Clint and Coulson.

“You never miss a thing, Barton,” the Commissioner tells him and he's right. Only a few days later, after hours of digging, Clint finally finds something, the one thing connecting the deaths. Each man has died within the next 48 hours after visiting the infamous nightclub _Spider's Web_.

The men of the upper class love it, for what happens behind the scene is every man's dream of sin coming true. Of course, it's never acknowledged they're part of the debauchery taking place in the rooms beyond the club and getting the information from the families of the deceased is quite the battle. _Sins belong to the night_ , are the words they hear over and over again. _Never to see the light of day._

Discretion is the detectives' top priority and it's decided that Clint goes undercover as a successful businessman looking for a little fun. He doesn't like the plan, he always works better from afar, but Fury insists, reminding him that he sees the small but important details that others would overlook.

Clint walks into the club with every intention of keeping his distance but then he's introduced to her, the Black Widow, _Natasha_ , who catches him in her web with her long red hair and green eyes. For the first time in his career, he finds himself stepping over the line, mixing business and pleasure. It should have raised every red flag in his mind, even Coulson sees it, warns him he's getting in too deep, but by then it's already too late and when the last pieces of the puzzle fall into place, so does Clint fall into the trap.

He should have realized that, as beautiful as the Black Widow is, she's just as deadly.

~ ~ ~

Clint tenses as Natasha steps out of the shadows, her black and red sequin dress shimmering in the light of the nightclub's neon sign outside of the window, the gun in her left hand pointing directly at his heart. Her face is nothing but a cold blank mask, no traces left of the passionate woman he's lost himself in for the last few weeks. 

Betrayal hits hard and he's left with a bitter aftertaste.

Cursing under his breath, he walks over to the window and braces one forearm against the glass, watching the heavy rain that has started to fall. He thinks about their nights, about hands buried in long hair and pale skin upon black sheets, and about words he never said to any girl before her, and the cool glass against his skin does little to calm the raging fire inside him.

“Was any of it real?” His question cuts through the silence and he sees her reflection flinch, her mask slipping for a split second, and maybe she isn't as unaffected as she wants him to believe. Clint clenches the hand at his side into a fist as he turns around and approaches her slowly, noting the way her hand trembles almost imperceptibly when the barrel of the gun presses against his chest.

“Was it, _Nat_?” He asks again, his voice sharp and his eyes hard as they bore into hers, and she finally cracks, her own eyes flashing with anger and something else, an echo of his own inner turmoil.

“Yes,” she snaps at him, reaching up and catching the collar of his dress shirt up in her right hand, fingers curling into the fabric. “Damn you, Clint, but yes, it was.”

She releases his shirt, starts to step back but he's faster, wraps his fingers around the wrist of the hand holding the gun and disarms her in a quick, fluid motion before she can react, the weapon dropping on the floor, disappearing somewhere in the dark.

His other hand comes up, fingers entwining in the thick mass of her hair, and he could put an end to this tangled web they're in, he _should_ , it's what he came for after all, three words ( _you're under arrest_ ) and it would be over, his job done, but he doesn't. 

Instead, Clint makes a different call.

Pulling Natasha closer, he feels the pulse in her wrist pounding beneath his fingers, matching his own beat for fast beat, and he slowly tilts her face up to his as he leans in. His lips brush hers and she exhales shakily, his name nothing more than a whisper as she clutches at his shoulder, and everything unravels from there.

He kisses her roughly, tightens his hold on her and she arches into him, gasping against his mouth, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, and he deepens the kiss, pushes her back and down onto the bed, follows to cover her with his body. 

Light and shadows merge, reality and duty fall away, and he doesn't know what it is about the woman in his arms, if it's love or something else, but what Clint does know is, that no matter what is going to happen, he won't let Natasha go.


End file.
